Dissolution
by WhenLighteningStrikes
Summary: He's never heard of Mark Twain, and he's been flunking geography continuously since fourth grade. So what are the chances he’ll get ‘Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt’? Derek-centric.
1. Explosion

Disclaimer: Nope, checked with my manager. Still not mine.

* * *

**It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

Welcome to the fallout  
Welcome to resistence  
The tension is here  
Between who you are and you could be  
Between how it is and how it should be

**Dare You To Move- Switchfoot**

* * *

When Derek was in first grade, there was this girl. She'd had blonde hair and eyes the same color as his favorite blue pencil. He'd fallen in love. He would worship her from afar, and blush whenever her eyes fell on him (which wasn't often.) He would dream about high towers and fiery dragons and himself as the Knight in Shining Armor.

He'd just been walking along one day, when he'd come across her, sitting underneath a tree, sobbing. He hadn't even waited to hear her finish her story about the 'mean boy who'd stolen her lunchbox.' In his mind he already had on a blue bodysuit with red underwear on top.

The 'mean boy' turned out to be three years older and 50 pounds heavier. An hour later his face was bleeding, both his knees were scraped and his tooth was loose. But he carried forth the lunchbox with an air of triumph (being _scrappy_ helps.)

She'd taken one look at him, snatched her lunch box, and started crying about his 'ugly face that she never wanted to see again.'

She moved on, he stayed in first grade and that was the end. But the blonde girl with the pencil-blue eyes taught him a valuable life lesson-

Life was a bitch.

* * *

She's crying again.

Sometimes he wishes that he _had _taken the basement when offered. It would've saved him a lot of face-offs with Ms. Drama Queen in the next room.

(It isn't like he lives for them or anything.)

He's waiting for the door to bang open and for her to enter. After all everybody has taken advantage of the new 'Open Derek's Door and Tell Him Your Life Story, Till He Bodily Throws You Out And Has To Pay You A Dollar' policy. And since when has Casey let go of an opportunity to mess with him?

Since now.

So he goes to her room. It's purely a reflex action on the part of his new 'sensitive' self. He's already lost 10 dollars during the course of the day; he's not going to lose any more, he's unable to concentrate on his homework with all the racket she's creating, he's going to tell her to _freaking _call Emily and get it over with.

(He's listed the reasons. Take your pick.)

Lizzie's standing outside. Her face is strained. "Max broke up with Casey," she whispers.

And then he's inside, because unlike Lizzie, he prefers not to wait for an invitation that isn't forthcoming.

She's a mess. He's so tempted to take a photograph; his hand's practically itching to reach his mobile. This is blackmail material. And if he wasn't Mr. Sensitive, he would have. Instead he just sits down and watches her.

And waits.

It isn't a long wait. (Just enough for her sobbing to become the theme music for the fantasies playing inside his head, all of them involving… Sally... if you squinted a certain way.)

"Go _away_."

(He stays.)

"Max broke up with me. Are you _satisfied _now?"

(It's such a Casey thing to expect. To tell a guy that you need 'time,' break his heart and then expect him to wait till time-out.)

Their conversation's already over. She's turned her head, and for her he's ceased to exist in that moment.

(He hates how easy it is for her to turn away.)

* * *

It's hard to remember _why _exactly he was planning on calling in sick, when Sally's lips are moving with his own. (The only thing he's sure about at that moment is that his name begins with a D, but the rest of the letters seem jumbled. What sort of parents would name their child Dkere?)

So he's pretty irritated when she "Customers" him and walks away. That is till he comes out.

Max.

(He's pretty sure it's called karma.)

* * *

He wishes Sally would stop fussing and just fucking let him drive. He's not ten and he's not concussed.

(He's broken, he's bleeding and look he's six again.)

Yeah, too bad he didn't see Ryan before Ryan's fist saw him. (The guy needed serious lessons in 'Talking things out 101'.) Max, the pacifist as usual, tried to hold him back, which in itself was a damn shame. Hadn't the guy any dignity? Derek had been poking him since five minutes before Ryan's intervention. The least he could've done was watch him being beaten up, instead of trying to play the savior.

(Casey hadn't been around to save him this time.)

And then they're home. (He's totally looking forward to this.)

He's up in his room before Lizzie has a chance to comment on his war-movie appearance. He can still hear everything of course, those damned walls. Sally's recounting of the events of the evening and Casey's indignant "He did _what_?!" (And somehow he doesn't think she's talking about Ryan.)

He locked his door; even through his non-concussion state he's sure he did. (He did forget that George's new 'Derek: In Service of Venturi-McDonald Household' policy… also had a 'No Lock' clause.)

So Casey barging into his room is a bit of a…surprise. (For an instant he has this image of Casey in a Catwoman costume. Breaking innocent doors. And no…he's not saving it up for a less crowded time.)

'Der-_ek'_

'Ca-_sey'_

And he's sure that she's going to hit him. But she has a far better plan…she messes with his head instead.

Her hand's on his lips and his brain goes in automatic 'Shut-Down' mode.

"Does it hurt." Her voice is low.

"No," he says through gritted teeth. (And it doesn't, no more than it would have if he'd been hit by a twenty- foot iron pole.)

She's still looking at him in that disconcerting way, and he's wishing she'll stop. It does things to his head. It makes him use words like 'disconcerted', which is always a bad sign for a guy who didn't know the meaning of 'cad' before she barged into his life.

"So why did you hit Max."

He refuses to look at her. He doesn't want to see the pity in her eyes. Or worse.

(Comprehension.)

"Felt like it."

It works; she's stopped looking at him _that_ way. At least that's what it seems like, in the glimpses he catches of her, from beyond the pillow she's hitting him with.

"You. Are. Such. A. Jerk…"

(He's stung by the unoriginality, he's not even worthy of her vocabulary now?)

"…It was absolutely _none_ of your business. You had _no_ right to…"

(No right? He'd kinda thought that the whole living in the bedroom next to hers thing gave him rights.)

"…Let _me_ handle my problems next time…"

And she's gone.

(He hates how easy it is for her to turn away.)

* * *

Derek was eight when he had his first kiss. She was his neighbor. They'd solemnly promised to marry each other, and share all their candies, crossed their hearts and hoped to die. They'd sealed their vows with a kiss, and pretended the gravel was a running river.

Her parents got transferred, and she left. Crying her heart out, her last memory of Derek was a curtain that refused to yield.

And he gained another pearl of wisdom. Forever might end today.

* * *

He knows what's wrong with him.

And it's in his Physics textbook, so it's accepted information. (He really has nothing against the science book. It's just the Human Biology section that disappoints him…he knows way more than the book.)

So there are these things called electrons. They're negative charges (and clearly _she _would have more of those than him.) And these electrons are passed on through contact… rubbing, touching, anything, their flow resulting in electricity.

(He never realized it was that simple. Where has the physics book been all his life?)

He's been living with Casey since two years. And in those two years, they've had all the varieties of fights possible. Those have included touching, hands and bodies in contact with each other, and falling over one another.

So the obvious conclusion is- he has a hell lot of Casey's electrons. He can't believe he didn't think of this before. His head is so full of her electrons, that they've flooded his brain and formed a miniature Casey all on their own.

And really, his theory does explain so much. The electric jolts that he gets when they're on top of each other, fighting for the remote. Why his body becomes a live wire when her hand brushes his. Why their fights speed his heartbeat.

Why he can't stop thinking about her.

Simple. It's a Law of Physics.

(He doesn't know who Mark Twain is, and he's been flunking geography since fourth grade. So what are the chances that he'll get 'Denial ain't just a river in Egypt'?)

* * *

'Der-_ek_'

She's mad. She's standing at the top of the stairs, breathing fire. He can practically taste it. Her anger. It always was so potent.

'The same prank _again, _Venturi? You must really be losing your touch."

He barely hears her. The fact that she is obviously wearing Lizzie's clothes. And the fact that Lizzie is…three years younger, and therefore the fact that her clothes are…shorter, all put together make for a very interesting image.

"Where did you keep my clothes? Give them back _this instant _and no one will get hurt."

(He'll laugh at the irony of the statement later. 'Hurting' was probably the first stage to...whatever this is.)

"Lizzie's clothes? Although I should have expected it. You always were such an exhibitionist."

"And exactly what am I exhibitioning?" A 'Danger Alert' signal follows her voice.

(Too bad he didn't pay attention to that particular signal till after it was too late. Brain meet abyss. Constant companion, ahoy.)

She follows his eyes, and then turns crimson. "You are a totalpervert, Derek Venturi. Someday I will pay you back."

(Is that a threat or a promise?)

"Well at least you aren't wearing my clothes this time. Now _that_ would've been a scarring image."

(He's not hinting. He's just wondering whether anybody else hears the desperation in his voice.)

She can't. He can tell by the way her eyes light up.

"Payback time." She whispers softly, before walking into his lockless room.

* * *

He loves that shirt. His pink and grey shirt. So he'd rather not feel like he's going to tear it off any second. Why did she have to choose that one?

The fact that it's practically slipping off her shoulders and reaches to just above her knees doesn't bother her. He shot, she scored. And in their twisted world, it's what they live for. The first checkmate to the game locked in stalemate since they first met.

Too bad Casey-electrons just changed the rules of the game.

She hasn't stopped talking. And really some of the things she's saying are quite offending. He shouldn't have to listen to them. It just might ruin his self-esteem forever. And since there are no earphones available, he takes the only other possible recourse.

He's kissing her.

His mouth against her so hard that he'll be bruised for days. His hand on his shirt and (_oh god) _she smells like him. And she tastes just like his (_traitorous)_ head predicted she would. His brain has undergone total meltdown, and that damned electricity is coursing through his veins. And maybe she'll taste what he feels all the time. He's letting her into his head. A one-way ticket into his own private_ (fucked-up)_ hell.

And then she's pushing him back. Her eyes so wide. (He can see himself breaking in them.)

And she's turning away, running.

Leaving him alone.

(Again.)

* * *

A/N This'll be a two-shot, I guess. (And yes...I do enjoy messing with Derek's head!)


	2. Dissolution

Disclaimer: Still not mine :(

* * *

**It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

I don't know what the world may need,  
But I'm sure as hell that is starts with me.  
And that's wisdom,  
I've laughed at.  
Cause what the world needs now is a new tension  
The old one just bores me to death  
Cause, what the world needs now, is another lover  
Like I need a hole in my head.

**Cracker- Teen Angst**

* * *

When Derek was nine, George and Abby gave him the best surprise of his life.

Not.

They were going to have another baby.

Derek could still remember the day Edwin entered his life. Could still remember the millions of gifts.

("They're for _Edwin_, really Derek; you're a little too old to be behaving this way.")

Could remember sitting in the corner, while all his various relatives cooed over the ("He's so cute_!"_) baby.

(And all this for a boy, who looked more like a monkey than anything else. A sort of 'Before Evolution' sketch of mankind.)

So "_Aren't you excited about the new baby?" _didn't really cut it with him.

He sulked for days. Refused to come out of his room, or let anyone enter. That's how the (in) famous 'Keep Out' sign came into existence.

He resolved to not look at his baby sister, and worked at keeping that resolve much harder than he had ever worked at Math. Occasional glances were all he was willing to spare.

*

It was just one of those days. Abby was bathing Marti, (What sort of a no-name was that, anyway?) and Marti was crying. It was impossible to believe that the little pink bundle could carry such a pair of lungs.

Derek had just been picking his toy boat out of the bathtub, (No way was he going to let the baby touch it…) when suddenly, a tiny hand caught hold of his finger.

She was using him as an anchor against the cruel, wet water. Her hand had first reached out to his. In that moment of utmost despair, in her month-old life, she'd put all her trust in him. Her big brother.

For the first time since her arrival, he looked at his little sister's face. And promptly fell (_truly, deeply_) in love.

In that moment Derek Venturi, forevermore, became one-half of SmartiandSmerek.

He didn't learn a single life lesson from that one.

* * *

She hasn't talked to him in two days, thirteen hours and twenty-seven minutes.

(Not that he's counting or anything. He's just, you know, trying to decide on the magnitude of the celebration.)

Really if he'd known that it would be so effective in shutting her up, he'd have kissed her ages ago. Definitely before those stiletto-like eyes of her, sort of took aim at him.

She's sitting there with Marti, finger-painting. Both their heads bent together, so close, that it was difficult to tell where she ends and Marti begins. In _another _shirt of his. ('Stubborn as a Casey' totally deserves a simile status.)

Doing a wonderful job of pretending that he's nowhere in the near vicinity.

(Or on the planet.)

He doesn't exist, and _still _she's wearing that damn shirt, just so she can deliberately wipe her hands on it. He's almost ready to bet she'll go wallow in the mud next.

(He isn't wishing… after all Casey looks nothing like those supermodels, the ones whose mud-filled photo shoots he stay up late to watch.)

He's always been Lord of The Lies. He'll convince you of the flatness of the earth given half a minute. So it's very easy to not remember that day.

Not remember how he'd gone into Marti's room, and disturbed her afternoon nap, demanding a special Smarti smug.

Not remember how on Edwin's "What did Casey do now, bro?" (A reference to his bruised lip), he'd replied, "She didn't bite my lip or anything."

Only to receive an eyebrow-raise and an, "Umm…I didn't think she had... I was just wondering what she'd hit you with."

Not remember how he'd left the stupid vent in his room open, just so he could listen to the silence while she took a shower.

(Really, he has to be the most gullible person he'd ever lied to. He totally believes himself, no questions asked.)

And since nothing's changed, he's still using his free time (all 24 hours of it) to strategize pranks for her benefit. And reading

Yes, he did just say reading.

That science book has him absolutely hooked. Now he's carrying out an almost Newtonian experiment on the 'Power of Thought', trying to determine whether it can manifest itself in tangible form in the metaphysical environment.

(A Nobel Prize is nothing to sneeze at.)

No matter which way she moves, he's standing there, right in front of her. He doesn't exist, remember...so she should be able to walk right through him. Isn't that another Law of Physics? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, things which aren't real can't apply a force. So instead of his body, she should be able to feel just the air surrounding them.

(Which is so filled with…something, it'll probably manage to exert a force all on its own.)

He knows the strength of Casey's resolutions; she should have absolutely no trouble walking through him, _if_ she concentrates hard enough. And if she somehow manages to bang into him…well, then he'll know her willpower isn't all that strong either.

(It has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to feel her skin on his again. He's not deluded, he's…creative.)

But she always deviates a little at the last moment.

(Maybe he should start another experiment. Or maybe he should just put a psychiatrist on speed dial.)

* * *

That's how he ends up with the guys, at night, in some bar. Checking out every available girl in sight. Because that's what normal guys do, right?

(He knows all about normal, he was it at least fifteen years of his life…before certain factors beyond his control caused that to change.)

Sally would kill him, if she knew, but what she doesn't know, doesn't hurt her. And since there's _no one _else to consider, he's happy being one- of -the-guys…just better looking.

"_Dude, _check her out! She's way hot!" Ralph whispers, and then (3…2…1…) "_Nice Shoes_**.**"

She looks at the group. Her glance lingers on him for a moment. But she's a brunette. Brunettes are uptight super-keeners, who finger-paint and ruin his favorite shirts. Don't work for him. So he looks away.

Ralph is disappointed, "You've gotta give me a new line Derek. This one's stopped working."

Sam's weirded out. "Nice shoes? I don't even _want _to know."

*

And then they're discussing their sex lives, because that's also what standard guys do. (It's been an hour and he's _still _doing a good job of pretending he's normal.)

Ralph's describing his trysts with Amanda in great detail. Derek has a sort of feeling that he's given his imagination a free reign. He remembers Amanda vaguely, a quiet brown-haired girl, he'd gone out with some time or the other. (What? Nerds were on 'The List' too.) And unless Amanda is actually a secret Olympic gymnast, some of the things Ralph is suggesting are…difficult.

Sam is far less eloquent. He gives the basics and glosses over the details. He _is_ cute (and Derek's friend, which is a ticket to high life all by itself) and probably could get a lot of action if he wanted. But since he's Casey's-type, a one-woman man, he's willing to be faithful to the girl of the moment.

The drink suddenly tastes bitter. He's certain it was improperly refrigerated. He's not going to leave a cent more in the tip than absolute decency requires.

Oh wait. He's not decent (He's not _Casey's-type_) so he's going to leave less than absolute decency requires.

Finally, they turn to him. Best for the last or something. Ralph's eyes are actually glowing.

"Come on D, spill. Tell us about you" Even Sam looks interested. For Derek Venturi's love life is a racy (_banned for extremely explicit content_) book all on its own. A bestseller for sure.

Derek Venturi: Raising standards for mortal men everywhere.

So he opens his mouth (he's quite the storyteller) and comes up with a great, big…blank.

Because _(fuck_) he can't remember. When did he last sleep with anyone? When did he last _not _sleep in his own room? Or sleep in his room, but not alone?

And how did he not notice it?

So he's standing there with his mouth open, waiting for memories to rush back. Of nights, days, car backseats, closets. Of alcohol and wanting-someone-to-see lingerie. Of hands, mouths and heat.

Nothing.

(He's completely and utterly screwed…and for once not even literally.)

Sam's the first person to notice. His eyes go wide and he's laughing incredulously. "You can't _remember?_"

Ralph still hasn't caught on. "Too many incidents, D? Tell us the juiciest. We'll save the rest for later."

Sam looks at him, his eyes gleaming, "She's got you whipped, D."

"She has…not. I don't like her, not even as a member of my food-chain. I've only kissed her, just once. It's just that kissing seems to be the only way to shut her up and…"

(Why can't he shut up?)

Sam looks even more amused. "Yeah. Right. You don't like her at all. You've just decided to go monogamous for the greater good of humanity."

(Pause.)

"You've kissed her _once_? You haven't reached _second _base with her yet?! Dude, you're in love."

(Love?)

(Pause)

"And admit it or not…Sally has you _totally _whipped!"

(Sally?)

The relief coursing through his veins is pure gold. Sally. Of course. He would never do anything to hurt Sally. He likes her. She's blonde, and hot, and one of the nicest people he knows, _and_ loved by his entire family. (Although he really only cares about Marti's opinion.)

No wonder he couldn't remember.

Sam's still explaining to Ralph, who's deflating visibly but still protesting vehemently. "He's Derek! He's The Man. How can he not have had _any…?"_

He's not caught the rest of the sentence. His thoughts are still on Sally. Maybe he really really likes her.

He doesn't bother to wonder anymore. Not about how he has no memories from years ago. Before Sally green-eyed and blondified his world.

Because even after all those extra summer-school classes...

...He's still flunking geography.

* * *

A/N: Well...I've been fast! Two days and this is already up! And I'm sorry, I know I said this was a two-shot (I have no idea where this one came from) but now it's a three-shot. And don't worry, no more, I don't have enough material for more anyway. (Although I'm not sure whether the first two had any 'material' either.)

Also, 'The List' is a reference from Cheerleader Casey in which Derek says he has a list of categories of girls that he'd like to date before high school ends. :)


	3. Absolution

**It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

This night's a perfect shade of:  
Dark blue, dark blue  
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?

**Dark Blue- Jack's Mannequin**

* * *

He first had sex when he was thirteen. Yeah, he was underage and curious and legality was the last thing on his mind. (And anyway, a broken family messes you up. Or at least gives you a valid excuse. Whatever). She was the coveted 'older sister' of one of his friends'. He and his friends would sit around in the locker room and make crude jokes whenever they could. (Safely out of the hearing of the aforementioned friend, though.)

It was just one of those fantasies. The ones that never see the light of the day. He didn't even think about her much.

Till the pool party.

She wasn't hanging around with them, even though it was at her house. Which was understandable. She _was_ older than them, after all. It would ruin her rep to be caught partying with a whole bunch of eighth graders.

He'd just gone to look for a snack. And quite by accident walked into the room with the indoor pool. Where she was sitting. In the briefest white bikini he'd ever seen.

There was no excuse for what happened next (after he'd stammered and stuttered his way into her consciousness.) Maybe she was bored, and he was just too cute.

The thing is he knows her hair was a dark red, and her eyes a deep green. A guy doesn't forget stuff like that. She _was _his first after all.

So he can't understand why, whenever he dreams about her, somehow she's not the same.

* * *

They refuse to stop.

It's been an hour (is it just him, or did several lifetimes just pass?) and they're _still _going on about his alleged 'lo_u_ve' (drinking obviously did nothing for their vocabulary) for Sally.

Thankfully they're too drunk to observe he isn't saying much (or anything). But a drunken Sam is still _Sam_, so it won't be long before he _does_ notice.

And he isn't in the mood for soul searching. (If he has any soul left that is, according to Casey he probably sold it to Satan to warranty a conception.)

So he changes the topic.

"How's Amanda, Ralph?"

It's definitely the right thing to say because Ralph's expression immediately turns overcast. For the moment he's forgotten everything but his grievance. (One track mind doesn't even _begin _to cover it.)

"Amanda's converting me to not eating meat…"

Sam has to interrupt, "It's called vegetarianism." (Yep, definitely Casey's-type.)

"Cool man, that sounds cool. I didn't know that." (Judging by the old saying, "What you don't know can't hurt you," Ralph's practically invulnerable.)

He's listening; he'd rather listen to Ralph than the Casey-electrons running riot in his veins. Which is easier said than done, because when has Casey _ever _accepted not being heard? Just his luck that her electrons are like a miniature Casey. Just more electric.

"…And then I say to her, Amanda, I did NOT fight my way to the top of the food-chain to be a vegetarian."

Sam laughs. "Ralphie, you're growing up! Where did you hear about the food-chain?"

Ralph's pleased, "You like it? Someone texted it to me as a joke. The dude was off it, it isn't even funny."

Sam stops laughing, "Figures."

*

"Talking about perfect couples…"

(…They'd been talking about perfect couples?)

He hasn't spaced out; he's just…trying not to think. It's never taken such an effort before. Living with _her_ has ruined him for life. He not only has to make a genuine _attempt_ to not think, he's also studying Physics. He can just imagine the look on the faces of his friends when he aces the next test.

"…Casey and Noel."

( . . . )

Suddenly it's very important to hear what's being said. So he tunes in again, although it's hard listening with that roaring in his ears, his heartbeat so fast, he's sure the next thing he'll do is wake up in a hospital. (And this time not even as a revisit to his nurse-patient fantasy.)

"What about Casey and Noel?"

"Aww…D, don't kid us. The nerd gets the hot girl. We want the story. So spill."

(He's doesn't know the story. He's not sure he even _wants _to know it unless it involves blood, gore and violence.)

"Shouldn't you be heartbroken or shit? She's _your _ex." (and she's not hot, is everyone except him blind or something?)

Sam looks straight ahead, "You gotta know when to give up sometimes. Not something you know very well, Derek."

He doesn't know what that's supposed to mean so he brushes the 'story' off, with a sort of don't-you-wish -you-knew smirk. Because that's what he does.

(It's better than throwing up all over Sam's new shoes anyway.)

* * *

Her room's is the only one with the light still switched on. Even though it's past twelve at night. She's clearly cramming for some test. (It's not like she'll be waiting up for him or anything. It's not like he's even _thinking _this.)

He's drunk; it's the only explanation really. There's no reason for going to her room, especially since he still doesn't exist.

"What sort of a name is Noel?"

She refuses to look up. Her profile screaming at him to get lost.

(He never said 'quick on the uptake' was going to be on his tombstone.)

"Isn't he the guy with the pixie ears you acted with in that dumb play? That worked because I decided to take pity on you?"

That is too much for her. He'd known it would be. Somehow 'How to Push Casey's Buttons' is ingrained in his psyche.

"You're drunk" she states.

(Captain Obvious! To the rescue.)

"Doesn't change the fact that the guy has Jumbo ears. And while they look good on Jumbo...and he writes poetry. _Poetry._ What's the matter, stepsis? No other guy willing to give you a second look? Try the mirror, maybe you'll see why."

He can see it in her eyes. That memory. She's biting the inside of her cheek to stop the words flowing out. About kisses. About him. And her. And them.

(If there _was _a 'them'. Could be a them. Like they could ever be contained in a single defining word. Obviously not.)

But she won't, because that's a grey area she can never venture into. She's happy with her world, the blacks and the whites, so clearly differentiated. Grey's too dangerous.

(Too bad he's experiencing temporary color-blindness for all other colors.)

"I'd have told you," She begins stiffly, "about Noel. About his compassion, and consideration, and how he doesn't have to be cool all the time. About how he genuinely likes me for what…who I am. But the words are too big for you Derek, and I don't have any crayons with me."

(Nice to have his entire existence reduced to a footnote. A sort of afterthought. _If _that.)

She hasn't stopped. It's like she couldn't open her mouth earlier and now she can't shut it. "He's smart and sweet and caring. He doesn't twist people around his little finger. You'll never understand him, he's nothing like you."

Her criterion for a boyfriend was 'nothing like him'?

(He hasn't had anything and the alcohol's gone to his head. It's really no wonder he feels empty. Maybe he should've eaten before he came up.)

He's trying so hard not to hurl (lack of food) that he just missed half of her sentence.

"… while if this was you…if _you _weren't here. I don't think I'd miss you, or even care, really."

He can at least be glad he missed half of it.

"The feeling's mutual."

She believes him. That he could have given any other response never occurs to her. He's obviously just been promoted to 'The Guru of Lies.'

(Next stop- National Poker Championship.)

* * *

It's for her.

It's a standing joke among the McDonald-Venturis. Edwin's even stopped betting on who the caller is, because it took him _so_ long to realize that it was _always _him (for her) that Lizzie had milked him dry in the betting game before he finally opened his eyes.

He always does the picking-up, though. It might be someone else, like Sally, who rarely calls now days because she's tired of him insulting Casey and putting her down.

(He gets the irony. He's just too drained to do anything about it.)

"Noel's coming over."

She's so excited, like she's announced that the U.S. just elected its first woman President.

And he just lost his appetite.

*

He's "so _nice and polite and friendly. A really great guy" _

His entire family is charmed. (Although if he had ever been described as nice and friendly and polite, he'd have found a tall cliff to jump off ages ago.)

Noel's the Anti-Derek. In other word Casey's perfect guy.

Pixie ears notwithstanding, he's obviously a great success with everyone. Even Marti.

(He feels betrayed.)

Casey's ignoring him again. Apart from a few (thousand) sarcastic remarks, she hasn't said anything to him all evening.

(He's sure she doesn't want lover-boy to see what happens when their eyes meet.)

So he's not feeling a particularly brother-in-law kind of benevolence towards Noel. The guy writes poetry and acts. Automatic strikedown.

They're sitting alone. (Or they would have been if he hadn't taken the couch.)

She's glaring at him, but this time he's turned his head. (Two can play at the game.)

She gets up in frustration to get a glass of water.

(Does Noel even know that that's her frustrated look? Has he ever seen her when she's angry, how her eyes darken till they're almost black? Somehow he doesn't think so.)

"Don't listen to _anything _Derek says, he's lying."

Noel looks up in amusement, "I'm sure he tells the truth sometimes."

She glares at him at the same moment as he looks up at her. And for the first time that evening their eyes meet. Whatever she sees in his eyes works, because she suddenly becomes very interested in the floor.

(He can see where she's coming from, the flooring is vinyl, and absolutely sensational. If he wasn't so against PDA, he'd have stared at it himself.)

"He _might, _but you can always tell when he's lying."

"How?"

"His lips move."

*

He's alone with wonderboy.

"You sister is something."

"Stepsister. There's no genetic link. Thank God."

(The line's become a preamble to almost all his statements. He never listens to those goddamned electrons when they start explaining why.)

"She's absolutely amazing. I've never seen anybody who dances like she does. Like she _is _the rhythm. Have you seen her dance?"

(Seen. Fantasized.)

He feels like hitting something (preferably resembling Noel's face.) It's a natural reaction really; the guy has a face made for punching.

(It isn't like he thinks she dances just for him. That every movement of her body, every twist, every turn, is just for his eyes.)

She's back before he can answer. And they've left (for a long walk) before he's even thought of a punch line.

*

"I can totally see why you're infatuated with Noel. Staid, steady, boring, he's _exactly_ your type. You never learnt how to live dangerously."

(He doesn't add, 'I can show you how', he doesn't need to. It just hangs there among the things he's starting to leave unsaid and fills up their air a little more)

"What I feel for Noel may be just an infatuation."

(It doesn't make his heart beat faster. Why should it?)

"I've had too many cases of love that were just infatuation, Derek, but this thing I feel for you..."

The world stops spinning on it's axis.

(She should just continue before all the icebergs melt. How would Lizzie like knowing her own _sister _was directly responsible for global warming?)

"...This hate I feel for _you..._ it's the real thing."

(She's proved her point. He's not invincible. Does she want a medal or something?)

She doesn't even wait around to watch him break.

* * *

a/n Okay. I should just say, I have absolutely no idea where I'm going. My one shot has already expanded to a four-shot. So I'll just stop saying anything and hope for the best.


	4. AN

**A/N Sorry, this isn't an update as you might have expected, I apologize for that.**

My grandfather just recently passed away. It was completely unexpected.

And just as an anecdote, this is a conversation that took place between my grandfather and me some time ago. He was really...something.

(I love reading, and he knows that all too well.)

G : I think I'm going to give you this Agatha Christie.

Me: (wondering why he's randomly brought it up) Umm...why?

G : Because I can see how greedily you're eyeing it. If I don't _give_ it to you, you're going to steal it.

Me : (all amused indignation) Really?

G : Yeah. So in a superhuman attempt to save your principles and morality, I think I should just give it to you.


	5. Scream

**It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

Stranger than your sympathy  
All these thoughts you stole from me  
I'm not sure where I belong  
Nowhere's home and I'm all wrong

**Sympathy- Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

He doesn't even know _why_ he remembers this.

Derek was 16 at the time.

He'd been sitting on his couch, watching T.V, when Casey had arrived. She'd had that dazed look on her face which usually spelt M-A-X. She looked around, her face falling as she realized that he was the only one around she could spill whatever was making her glow to. But undaunted she proceeded to sigh loudly, her usual way of getting somebody's attention.

He continued watching T.V. He wasn't going to listen to any Max stories. Sure the guy was pretty cool, but he didn't really care about what brand of toothpaste he used.

"You know what Max just said to me?"

So apparently the ostrich approach just worked for ostriches. Another theory shot.

"No. Don't Care. Get Lost."

"He said he likes me because I make him want to be a better person!"

That had caught his attention. Sally made _him _want to be a better person. (Or at least better at pretending to be a better person). Maybe if he told her that, she'd finally get over Patrick. It was worth trying.

"That's B.S." he'd said, "Max compromised on all his better qualities when he started dating you."

"Oh really...like what?"

"Like taste…and intelligence. The only reason _I _tolerate you is because you make me want to _not _be a better person."

She'd gotten up in a huff, her good mood evaporated (he was always glad to help in this.) "I don't know what _your_ problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce."

As a parting shot, it would've been good, if she hadn't Klutzilla-ed and tripped over her own feet on her way to her room. And he hadn't started laughing.

*

His mind went back to his past 'serious' girlfriends (and hopefully future-girlfriend in Sally's case.)

Sandra'd made him want to be caring, concerned. Amy had made him want to be funnier and more interesting. Kendra'd made him want to be more mature, Sally made him want to be…well just _better_.

The only girl he'd never had to change for.

(Yeah…)

* * *

It was almost the end of the year.

Lizzie's team had won their football tournament. Edwin had made up with Michelle. Marti had broken her tenth tooth and learnt multiplication. Sally had left for Vancouver. The school yearbook had come out. Casey had filled in every possible college application. Casey and Derek had slept together for the first time.

(Okay, so maybe the last one was just in his head, but it counted surely. He hadn't been able to sleep for days after that particular nightmare.)

He should know the difference between right and wrong.

(Especially since his grade school teacher had made him look both the words up in the dictionary, after a distinctive incident involving her desk and a frog.)

But the truth is, he'd just bypassed both and starting looking at more 'interesting' words. (His vocabulary of insults and sexual innuendos had been the envy of his guy classmates for days.) So he actually _doesn't_ know the difference between right and wrong. Most of the time, he just has his wrong and dresses it up as a right.

And what he's doing isn't wrong anyway. It's _only_ because he's missing Sally so much, and has no distractions, that he's turning on Casey.

Like there could be another reason as to why he's prank-calling his own house (it has nothing to do with wanting to hear her speak again.)

Why he's using every possible insult (just to watch her face flush and watch those eyes sparkling dangerously at him…not)

Why he's having dreams which make him wake up at night, drenched in sweat. (There's a crossed wire somewhere, the girl in his dream is _Sally. _Only Casey-electrons sort of distort her image.)

And why he's tearing up her picture from his yearbook and sticking half of it with his own.

(_Fuck)_

* * *

The school yearbook is a huge hit. Since the last term's about to end, in a spectacular show of magnanimity, everybody has again started speaking to the people who stole their favorite color pencil in nursery.

The photographs too have their fair share of fame.

Casey and Noel's 'Couple of The Year' photograph is much appreciated. The girls are starry-eyed about how "_adorable" _it is, and the guys…well the guys don't really care. He doesn't either. It looks more like a scene from 'Beauty and The Beast', than anything else (Noel being the beauty, of course.) The guy in the picture is well-dressed, and looks good (as good as a guy with goblin-ears _can_ look.) He had his arms around a girl.

The girl isn't Casey. Not the Casey he knows, anyway. The girl in the picture is smiling at the camera, her eyes empty, wearing a slinky red dress, every curl perfectly in place.

She's beautiful…

(Utterly Lifeless.)

Perfect, in everybody's eyes.

He passes over that photograph in revulsion. (He isn't _everybody._)

And then he comes across _it_.

It's an old snapshot, but he can pinpoint the exact second it was taken. He knows that at that very moment he is being hauled away to Lassiter's office for a prank that Casey has engineered.

The girl in this picture is nothing like the girl in the previous one.

She's standing against her locker, looking at him. (Even though he isn't in the picture, he still knows…like he always does.) Her eyes are sparkling with pure mischief, her hair messy, falling all over her face (he'd stolen her brush too); her mouth trembling with an inscrutable, 'I-have-a-secret' smile.

(Oh, and she's wearing his shirt. Not that _that_ matters. It isn't like he's obsessed with seeing her in his clothes.)

He knows that everyone will appreciate Noel's Casey more, but he knows that his Casey (not literally _his _Casey of course, it's just that he doesn't have a large enough vocabulary to paraphrase it in less nauseating terms) has something over Noel's Casey…

Radiance.

* * *

He doesn't understand her.

(Admitting is half the problem solved right?)

"It's not fair on the poor girl."

She's so indignant that she hasn't even noticed he stole the remote half an hour ago.

"I resent that." (Considering 'the poor girl' in question is his current girlfriend.)

But Casey, never very quick on the uptake (he should know) continues, "It's not fair on her to be just a substitute. She doesn't deserve that, she's a nice girl…even if she does think Canada is a constitutional democracy."

(Sheath those claws, kid)

"She's not a substitute; she's a perfectly nice girl. And not everyone can be a super-keener. They have nerd exams for those which she hasn't given."

She ignores him, her voice suddenly lowering to a whisper. So familiar to him from all his dreams (fantasies), even if the words are a little different.

And in this moment he hates her, he really does.

Because she _still _freaking doesn't get what that does to him.

(Because she still freaking doesn't care.)

"Derek…"

He gets up to leave; he's not putting up with this. It isn't in his job description as a _step-brother_.

"I know you're missing Sally a lot, she was the first girl I've seen you actually care for, maybe even love…"

(So his new girlfriend is _Sally's _substitute?)

"But you've to get over it, move on. We can't stand to see you like this for much longer, so...weirdly broken. I know it's hard, I understand."

Then he's angry. Raging mad. At her. For thinking she understands, for dating that idiot and singing stupid love songs, dancing in front of him, and then saying "Derek..." in that tone.

Like she cares.

"You know what Casey, you _don't_ understand. You don't know what the freaking hell you're talking about. I've seen _your _love, Casey. A fairytale. The guy gets you flowers, buys your dream dress for the prom, acts like a romantic hero right out of the novels, kisses you like you were this fragile, breakable piece of glass."

(And he's sick, because that's what she loves. All the things he'll never be.)

"You don't know the _first _thing about love. You've got this warped image in your head, and you bend the people around you to suit that image. Everything has to be perfect. Color coded. Planned."

(Mr. Denial and Ms. Oblivious. They're perfect for each other.)

"But guess what, Case, here's a reality check. That's not what love's like. That's bullshit. It's not perfect. It's a damn mess. "

(Why can't he shut up? Did his brain take temporary leave without informing his mouth?)

"And it's fun. It's not silk sheets, and champagne. It's wanting someone so badly that you're afraid to look in their eyes when others are around. When you can't wait long enough to get to a room. It's dangerous, it's heady and it's _alive_. When you've been in a car-backseat with no satin sheets, and candles, and slow music, because you couldn't wait any longer _then _come and tell me you know what love's like. Don't make the mistake of thinking that your safe little cardboard cut-out romances and equally safe break-ups are anything."

(Yeah, so it's sex. But whatever, he's seventeen. And that's all he knows abut love. And that's probably a whole lot more than she ever will).

"When you've thrown away your notebooks because you can't categorize what you're feeling, come to me. Come and talk to me about _love._ I know you're sitting there with your eyes brimming over with fake sympathy, but you don't feel half as sorry for me as I do for you. You'll never know what love's like because you're afraid, Casey. Afraid to let go, to take chances, to _feel."_

(He's wishing for her to not understand this time. _Oh God _let her not understand.)

And now they're standing, two feet apart, full of _something… _nothing that makes sense. Because this isn't about Sally or Noel any longer, it's about CaseyandDerek.

(Just how it always is.)

She doesn't look up. And he feels an icy dread take hold of him. "Case..."

"De...Derek. Go. Leave. _Please_"

(Her voice breaks in sync with his heart. Karma's a bitch.)

So this time he's leaving.

(And it's reverse déjà vu all over again.)

* * *

Ever since ReGenesis, I love intense!Derek even more!


	6. Whisper

I'm so, so, _so _sorry. My stupid computer conked off, and I had to rewrite the entire chapter (which made me totally mad.) Anyway **Happy New Year! **And I _really _hope you like the chapter!

* * *

**It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

Something always brings me back to you.  
It never takes too long.  
No matter what I say or do

I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch.  
You keep me without chains.  
I never wanted anything so much

Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Set me free, leave me be.

I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.

**Gravity-** **Sara Bareilles**

* * *

(He wishes he didn't remember this.)

Derek was 16 at the time.

It was February 14 th . If Sally hadn't already ingrained it into his memory, the red-balloons and roses would have been a dead give-away.

Thompson J. High (always ready to cash on every available opportunity) was holding a 'Rose Sale.' Every girl was vying for getting as many roses as she could, while her hapless boyfriend looked at his nearly-empty wallet in disbelief.

He hated P.D.A., so it wasn't much of a surprise that Valentine's Day was at the top of his 'No Way in Hell' list. (This was the only time he'd actually been glad that Sally wasn't in his school. He li…loved her too much to try the 'Preemptive Strike' on her.) No way was he going to look like a freak just to impress some girl.

(Although he had toyed with the idea of buying a rose, plucking all its petals and handing the thorny stem to _her… _the perfect symbol of their relationship.)

He'd been standing at his locker, looking condescendingly at all the suckers, when he'd heard _her _voice. She was holding the biggest bouquet of red roses that he'd yet seen. (Maybe Max planned on spending all his money, so he'd not have any left for dates…he'd have done the exact same thing if he had a girlfriend like _her_.)

Her cheeks were flushed, and she'd been talking excitedly to Emily, when Mrs. P. had passed by.

"It must be so nice…to have somebody care enough about you to buy you beautiful roses," she'd said, smiling, before walking to her next class.

He didn't know what made him do it. He certainly didn't _care_.

(So why he'd sent that kid to buy him a rose would continue to remain one of the world's greatest mysteries.)

*

He'd been stuffing his mouth when he heard her quiet even breath behind him. The thought of the rose, and where it would be by now, was enough to make him go hot and cold.

(Stupid didn't even _begin _to cover it.)

She'd watched him in silence.

He just sat there, wondering how long his stomach would hold up before he'd have to look up.

"Derek…"

(What he wouldn't do to hear De-_rek_, just about now.)

She knew.

He could tell by her tone. (Soft, so soft…)

From what glimpses he could catch of her face, through the corner of his eye, her face was actually _glowing, _her eyes starry. As if by his monumentally stupid gesture, he'd somehow vindicated her_. _

_(She knew.)_

But that was _impossible. _He'd outdone every single super-spy he'd ever read about in his comics (graphic novels, you moron) in secrecy. So she couldn't know…

Unless.

"You were spying on me."

Her eyes dropped at the sharp, cold edge in his voice, "I thought you were…cheating on Sally."

"I'd never cheat on Sally." The flash in her eyes was gone before he could categorize it.

"I know…" she'd looked up, "But…it was really…sweet of you."

He'd gone in total panic mode. "I didn't. It wasn't me. It was from somebody else."

She'd given her best 'Whom-Do-You-Think-You're-Kidding' look. "Really? Like who?"

"Lassiter."

She'd laughed outright, "_Right." _She held his eyes, "Whatever you may say, underneath you're a good guy, Derek Venturi…"

(Sounds familiar?)

He'd taken to the stairs two step at a time. He could bear almost anything, _until_ it classified him as a 'good guy'.

She'd called after him. "Mrs. P. had tears in her eyes, Derek, when she found it on her desk…just thought you'd like to know that."

*

It had taken five carefully planned pranks to get back to their position of equilibrium.

Five pranks before she'd started looking at him with the same dislike that she always _had _looked at him with.

Five pranks before he could look her in the eye with the same arrogance he always had.

(Five pranks before he could breathe again.)

* * *

"_Every particle on earth attracts every other particle on earth with a force that is inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them" __**– Universal Law of Gravitation**_

Right.

It isn't him at all. It's the _universe._

Fucking unbelievable.

This physics book has proved to be an eye-opener beyond belief. He's not actually crazy; he's just the victim of a cosmic joke.

Because from what he understands of math, it means that the force of gravitational attraction increases as the distance becomes shorter. Which pretty much explains what the electron theory left out.

(The universe is out to get him.)

She lives in the bedroom next to his, and unless he's just disproved the law, it means that he's attracted to her more than anybody else in the universe. Plain and simple physics. No emotions or fffeelings involved anywhere.

So basically, he gravitates towards her (that is obviously the reason why they've even started invading each others' personal space) because of this invisible force. And when they're close, the electrons take over.

For once in his life he's in a lose-lose situation.

(He just wishes Newton had taken a holiday in Hawaii. Then instead of the apple, maybe a coconut could have fallen on his head.)

* * *

And they've started noticing.

(He's just surprised it took them that long. If nothing else, the quiet should have gotten to them by now.)

But now that they _have _noticed, it's suddenly difficult to keep the on and off again secret game that they've been playing in the last few months.

(_She's _been playing; he's just been thrust into the World Championship without knowing how to play, let alone the rules of the game.)

He can tell. They're laughing a shade too loud, saying things a little too off. Scrutinizing every single glance, every gesture in hushed whispers. Noticing his _entirely_ discreet measures to get her to talk to him again (putting his legs out in front when she's walking by, so she falls on him.)

And he has a sickening feeling that they're mistaking his detestation of Casey for another emotion entirely. Even Marti gives him Special Smarti Smugs for no greater provocation than a failed trick.

With Casey avoiding his eyes, and his avoiding everybody else's, life in the McDonald-Venturi household is just wonderful.

(And the kicker, yeah…it isn't going to stop anytime soon.)

*

Edwin glances up, with a slightly terrified look on his face, as if he expects her to spontaneously combust because he scraped his chair while sitting down.

They've been walking on broken eggshells around her. (He mentally counts off the seconds, 3…2…1…)

"I can't _believe _it," she bursts out.

"What can't you believe, dear?" Three points to Nora for managing to not sound like a long-suffering martyr.

"How could he possibly have gotten the marks that he did? How could we possibly be in the _same college_? He failed _first _grade, it obviously shows that he has deep-set psychological issues which…" her voice grows hopeful, "…only military school can cure."

(Who would've thunk it? All those exam questions…right out of his textbooks. Unbelievable.)

Nora sighs, "We've been over this, Case. He did very well in his exams," she fails to keep the note of surprise out, "and I really do think you should be _proud _of your brother, instead of behaving in such a manner."

He waits for it, lazily almost. The inevitable '_step-brother'. _

She doesn't say it.

(. . . . . )

"Step brother." He's so late, they've already moved on before he manages to get the words out. "And besides I still have to pass one last subject before I'm eligible."

"Maybe you'll do us all a favor, and fail it. Just like it should be."

(Just like it used to be…but things _have _been changing around here, haven't they, hun?)

"Now Casey, that sounds a little mean", Nora admonishes, "It'll be nice for you to have a familiar face around."

Noticing Casey's unconvinced expression, Nora continues, taking the course that'll appease her, "And think of how much money it'll save. You can share the same residence, come back here whenever you want. No fighting over who-gets-the-car-when. It'll be _convenient _to have your brother around."

He waits again, his heart pounding. (hard. So hard.)

She still doesn't say it.

(How _dare _she?)

And that, more than any of her other insults, spurs him on, "That's a good idea, Nora. We'd save so much money sharing an off-campus flat."

"I'm not sharing any living space with you." She interrupts, flatly.

"You already do."

"This is…different."

"Different," he feigns innocence, "How so?"

(_Say it_. Say that it's different because the rest of the family won't be around. Just them. But why should that matter? Since she's so ready to accept him as her _brother_. Hypocrite.)

"It just is."

"What are you afraid _of_, Case…?" Her eyes widen at the undertone, "I promise I don't…bite." He catches her gaze, and holds it. Watching the innuendo register.

"I'm not going to be living in any place where I'll have to watch you bring in a new girl every day. The walls couldn't possibly be thick enough."

"_Casey," _Nora's voice is filled with disbelief.

"Is that it? You're…" (Jealous?) "It'll be good for you. Maybe you can observe a few things. Take some notes. I'm willing to give you a practical demonstration…with somebody else, of course. I'll try and leave my door open sometimes."

"_Derek," _George has finally joined in.

(They're so far gone; they don't even notice anybody else, anymore. Which is definitely not normal.)

Lizzie and Edwin are watching with identical expressions of dawning shock. (And realization?) Marti looks like she's about to cry.

"Go up to your rooms, we're _very _disappointed in you." George sure doesn't waste time.

Marti bursts into tears.

George has to repeat himself five times, before Derek hears him. Marti crying. He made Smarti _cry. _He catches her eye, and gives her his secret best-big-brother smile. She reciprocates, her mouth turning up at the corners in spite of herself.

And then he leaves. (With her)

*

"What makes you think I haven't already done it?"

(The thing about Casey is, she hates being worse than him in _anything,_ right down from Math to 'it' apparently.)

How does he know? Maybe the fact that she's still incapable of saying the word 'sex' might have helped a bit.

"I may not know the meaning of _love_," She throws his words back at him, bitterly, "But that doesn't mean I've never experienced it."

(The other thing about Casey is, she doesn't know when to leave well enough alone.)

But this time he's not giving up.

He reaches out his hand and almost lazily maps out her face under it, dragging his finger slowly across her face, right down to her collar-bone. And watches, clinically detached, as her face flushes and a shiver runs down her body.

(The fucking irony is that he's the one it's going to end up hurting. Again.)

"That's how I know." he whispers.

Ever since they first met, he's gotten under her skin like nobody else has. She can say all she wants about hating him, but till her eyes refuse to meet his, till his words still have the power to set her skin afire, he's not folding his hand.

(He just hopes he can bluff his way through.)

* * *

**Everyone who thought the rose was for Casey, say _Aye! _(I love Derek doing ridiculously nice things and trying to hide behin his 'cool' exterior.)**

* * *


	7. Prayer

Scream at me. I beyond-deserve it.

DISCLAIMER: Her Name Is Erika promised me Derek's character for Christmas. Maybe Santa's late this year?

* * *

**It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

White lines that never fade  
Burn deep with everyday  
And I need to know

Pull me out so I can feel  
Make me believe, that one more night's  
Not a minute too long when a moment's all I need

You'll marry the night  
Dance with the pain but you don't mind  
See the city burn tonight, hearts up in flames  
Would you carry me away?

**Long Hallway With a Broken Light- Thriving Ivory**

* * *

He first met her when he was eight.

She'd moved in the house next door to his. One look at the mop of unruly curls and stern expression and he knew she was someone he wouldn't mess with.

The first time the Davis' came over for a welcoming party to his house, they were sent out to play together.

She had looked at him imperiously and ordered; "Now we'll play 'Fairy Queen'. You can be my slave."

(He didn't have a mirror at the time, but he's sure his expression would have been blackmail material for Casey.)

"I'm a boy; I don't play little-girl games." He said, shocked.

"Don't you know any little-girl games?" The surprising creature asked him with condescending pity. "Don't worry, I'll teach you."

"_ME? _I don't want to learn," with a certain bitter remembrance of pencil-blue eyes and first kisses, "I dislike girls."

She looked at him in comical horror, "But I'm a girl. You're a stupid boy, but I like you. Don't you like me?"

He stayed silently, watching in slowly growing dismay as her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm crying. You're making me cry 'cause you won't say you like me." She sobbed.

If there was one thing he couldn't bear, it was tears. He hated the way they made him feel, as if he had done something so wrong, he'd never be able to do anything to make up for it.

"I do." He burst in, "I do, honestly. I like you, a lot. Don't cry"

"And you like all little girls?"

"Er…yes, yes. I do."

"You're wishing you were a little girl, aren't you?"

He looked around for escape, finding none; he turned back, "Um…yes."

A radiant smile peeped out from behind the curls and an authoritative voice proclaimed, "Good. Now you can be my slave"

And out there in the garden, playing Fairy Queen with a little bushy-haired girl, who had used him to get her way, he felt he might actually have found a girl whom he could be (just) friends with.

*

He doesn't know why it changed. Why the first signs of a broken voice, and girls falling over him turned her from the no-nonsense girl he'd known into a simpering mess.

He deliberately stopped paying attention to her after that. He didn't want her crush to develop into something that would end up hurting her. In some dark corner of his mind, she was still the first girl he'd ever considered as a potential _friend._

(Besides heartbreaks didn't belong in the world of fairy-queens.)

* * *

Their relationship is founded on partial amnesia.

Every day starts off with a clear memory of the insults, the pranks and an unquenchable thirst for retribution.

The _other _memories (smileswhisperstouches) just fade away into some dark recesses of their mind, classified as 'dangerous'.

So by ignoring him after the…incident, she's broken the golden rule. She's made 'it' real. She's showing she hasn't forgotten, and she's not allowed him to forget either. And now he can't stop this thing she (he, them, who even cares now?) started.

(Doesn't mean he has to like it.)

He hates this pathetic freak he's become.

When did he sink so deep, that he's actually _glad_ that Sam and Max are one-syllable names? _When_ in his life did the gods grant him personal loserdom… to the extent that he's ready to kiss Noel's parents for giving him the no-name Nole, instead of the more accepted No-elle?

Because that means she can never say Noel's name like she says his. No S-_am, _M-_ax, _No-_le. _

Just De-_rek. _

Just him.

(He doesn't know whether his brain has short-circuited. But either way, he thinks it's time to consider _intensive _psychotherapy.)

*

Dad and Nora forgive them (eventually).

It involves an hour-long torturous interview. As soon as Nora starts shooting around words like 'disappointed' and 'How could you not think of your siblings' he knows Casey's ready to beg for forgiveness at her feet and pledge lifelong celibacy.

(Sucker)

And then comes the torturous part in which George barely manages to stutter out the words 'College' and 'protection' along with 'responsibility' thrown in for good measure.

She's looking at George, her eyes glazed over, her entire face a deep brick red (he wants to touch to see if it burns his skin.) He's so crazy with wanting to prolong that (insanely hot) look on her face, so he does the first thing he can think of.

(Just as a general warning, maybe you should check the present company before beginning on flavoured condoms.)

Dad and Nora aren't in a position to continue the interview after that.

(The …downshot of it all? Yeah, they're still going to share a flat.)

* * *

It's a familiar pattern now.

(He's so used to not existing that sometimes he's almost taken aback to see himself in the mirror.)

So the fact that she's in his room, obviously means the blow-up is about something big, like...

"I can't believe it! You kissed her. _Again_."

(She's nothing if not unoriginal.)

"Can't you? Don't worry, I have video proof."

She had glared at him, "You're disgusting. And it's completely wrong."

"And you're a prude. Feel free to leave my room any time."

(Or join him on the bed. He's not picky.)

"She's my _cousin_. And you're my _stepbrother_."

"So that would make us...step-cousins? If she has my kids, they'll be half step-cousin-sibling-somethings."

(Psych.)

"_You slept with her?_"

(....aaand Bingo. He gets the expression he was aiming for. He doesn't understand why Casey-101 isn't in his syllabus. He'd totally be acing it.)

"Those little moans she makes, they're quite addicting. Is there any way we can trade. You for her? I understand it'll be very unfair on Harry and Fiona, though."

(He could send them the Casey Instruction Manual. He has enough material for one.)

Casey decides to ignore that. She picks on a new refrain.

"Then she'll be your _step-sister_. And it'd be wrong. Even more wrong than it is now."

(What's the deal with today's world. Don't they know what to do in an emergency? You dial 9-1-1. Is everybody going to stand watching while his heartbeat slows down to zero?)

He thinks (pretends to think. Just like he pretends a lot of things. Strange.)

"It's not illegal." (That's an interesting piece of information. He didn't look it up. He was researching. On human relationships. For extra-credit. In Sociology. How do you think he got into college?)

"Some people know how to live. And live dangerously. If she was my _step-sister_, we'd have late nights, and would be making a mess of pristine white sheets, and moans of De-_reks _would_..._"

He stops.

Because. (De-_rek.) _

(Fuck)

"NotDe-_rek," _he always speaks that fast. You have a problem with that? "Derek. Just...Derek."

Vicky would call him Derek.

He can't even spell disappointment. (Is that a double 's' or double 'p' or a double both? And who the fuck cares.) What are the chances he's ever looked it up in the dictionary?

* * *

**I can't believe people are still reading this.**

**It sucks. Please forgive me. I'm so terribly bad at writing these days. It's like a massive writer's block. I hope it works for you anyway. **

**And yes, the Derek-Emily meeting is inspired by the Just William series (I _adore _them!) The memories were meant to be a Casey-free Derek psycho-analysis. Obviously I didn't keep to that. We all know how much Casey hates it when things aren't about her. She's stubborn like that.**


	8. Promise

**A/N I hope you like it! Thank you for your _wonderful _reviews. (I am firmly convinced I have the best reviewers in the world.)**

**

* * *

****It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Maybe there's a god above  
And all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you._

_And it's not a cry you can hear at night,  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

**Hallelujah- Leonard Cohen **(but I prefer the Jeff Buckley version ;)

**

* * *

**He was twelve at the time.

If it wasn't so painful, it'd probably have been hilarious. The Fridge considered _him _a potential threat.

He doesn't remember the excuses he used to make to stay in bed; he doesn't remember the strange feeling of being on the other side of the fence, the _victim _for once. All he remembers in sharp focus are the days on the school benches in the park, because there was only so much he could pretend that he was invincible to bruises and knuckled fists. (_Naah, doesn't hurt at all.)_

That's where he met the guy.

*

'The guy' was exactly the sort of person whose picture could be found in the dictionary next to the word 'uncool'. His jeans were yanked up, and his hair parted neatly down the middle. (Derek moved away slightly, uncoolness was catching.)

They never talked. They just sat there and probably never looked at each other. It was just an interstice in his life.

(Then Ryan found him)

He remembers it, the surrealism of it. Knowing that he'd managed to evade since days. And this…this was the fallout.

The other guy was watching dispassionately as Ryan took hold of his collar, when he suddenly burst in with a "You know bullying is actually a technique adopted by people who've either had repressed childhood, or have been bullied themselves. Have you?"

Ryan turned around, "What?"

Derek frowned at him, (How much better could he communicate 'stay the _hell _away' with just his eyebrows?) but the guy continued.

End Result: It was double bonanza for Ryan that day.

*

Eventually it stopped. (Maybe his parents finally realized that hockey pucks didn't leave bruises all over the body.) He doesn't remember. All he remembers is, he never went back to that bench. Maybe the other guy went, maybe he didn't. There was no gratitude, no epiphany.

(Life, as he has realized can be summed up in three words, it goes on.)

*

(Sam and Ralph never did understand how hard Derek must have hit his head to actually let _Sheldon Schlepper_ sing for them in the last –and biggest- school performance of D-Rock.)

* * *

Nobody's particularly surprised when he absolutely refuses to go to his senior prom. (No Sally this time round.)

"Nora, as much as I really _want _to spend my hard-earned money on a limousine and a corsage and listen to a girl going on about who's going to hook up with whom, I'm afraid I really feel I should be studying for my make-up exam. After all college is _so _very important."

She doesn't believe him, he can make out by her raised eyebrows, but she lets it slide.

(He's really hurt she doesn't believe him; really, he was being so very mature.)

"Casey's going with Noel. She's going crazy over finding that perfect dress. You know how she gets."

(He knows.)

"You should've told me sooner."

Nora glances at him, "Why?"

"Why? Because the prom is _three _days away. I don't even have time enough to buy pixie-ears a proper sympathy card."

(His voice is a perfect mixture of slight amusement and total indifference. Wasn't someone going to offer him a medal for managing it all with a closed throat?)

"Don't you think it's about time you got over…Sally?"

He doesn't look up. (Because there was this pause before Sally. There was a fucking pause. Why was there a fucking pause?)

"I'm over her."

He can hear Nora sigh softly (which probably means he has supersonic hearing, considering he can hear anything at all, over the pounding of his head. He's totally going to dress up as superman on his graduation.)

"You know," she begins slowly, almost carefully; "I stayed with Dennis long after it was obvious we weren't compatible. There was Casey who couldn't bear to be away from him, and Lizzie was pretty young. But I think I stayed mostly because I was afraid what people would _say_. And you know what I found…it's not worth it. It's not worth pretending, worth thinking of what anybody would say. Not worth the heartbreak."

(He gets it, _okay. _He gets it.)

But she's still looking at him (and hey! He recognizes the look. It's the same one she gave him when she found out he'd slipped out of Casey's party to visit her in the hospital on her birthday) as if she wants him to say something.

(How can he admit something that isn't there to be admitted in the first place. Really.)

"So…I should probably start looking for that sympathy card now."

He doesn't wait to recognize the expression.

* * *

He hates anticipation. Because nothing ever lives up to it. You wait and you wait (and maybe _hopedreamwish_) but in the end…

(The universe laughs behind your back.)

* * *

They're all standing there. And it feels like a scene from a bad chick flick, the one in which the girl descends slowly down the stairs, suddenly transforming from the ugly-duckling into the swan, with violins playing in the background.

(And guess who he's playing. The loser _brother _who chats with his sister's date, and is ready to hand out wedding invitations by the end of the conversation. Except…he's not the brother. That's the important part here.)

He wishes Nora would stop looking at him in every ten seconds (he's counting.) And Noel seems to think they're step-brothers-in-law or something because he keeps trying to talk to him.

"I can't believe how lucky I am sometimes," he whispers, "Casey is something else."

"I know…what'd you think is taking her mother-ship so long?"

Noel continues doggedly (someone give the boy a cookie for trying) "It's just…she's so…together. So perfect. Sometimes I think that's why I…love her."

(He knows the important part there are the last three words, but he's too busy staring at Noel in utter disbelief. Because _hell, _are they even talking about the same person here?)

If there's one thing he knows about her, it's that she's completely deliciously imperfect, for all her condescension and pretension. She likes to present this façade to the world, sitting high on her pedestal.

(But guess what, Case, he knows.)

Because behind that perfection is the scared little girl who still closes all her windows and shuts her eyes tightly during a storm, who sits in front of the phone all day because she's so damned_ insecure_ the-he-of-the-moment wouldn't call. Who neurotically freaks out about _everything_.

He's seen her at her worst. At every stage. He knows what she looks like when she's sad, angry, ecstatic, hurt. He's seen her when she's completely irrational, when she pretends that she knows everything but couldn't be more unsure inside. When she lies. When she tries too damn hard, and it's not enough. He knows she's up there freaking about every single thing. The color of her dress, the length, the cut.

He knows it all. Every single damn thing.

(And he still hasn't given up on her.)

* * *

He doesn't even realize she's entered. It's only when Noel suddenly looks like he's going to have a seizure that they all turn.

(Cue: Romantic, cheesy music.)

He looks up at her and it's almost a physical blow. And in that moment he stops breathing (it'll take too much effort.)

She looks. So wrong. So damned chaste, untouchable and _wrong_.

(And vulnerable. She wants to be appreciated. Can you read her eyes, Noel?)

She wearing something that's a lot less princess than before. The wine colored (since when is _wine _a color?) dress has a lot of cuts and he can glimpse her pale, smooth skin (Breathe in. And out.) and yet...

Yet, what it brings out is...innocence. The totally unseductive, insecure, unsubtle way in which she keeps trying to pull it up, and tries to cover the deep leg slit. Her face turning red at the slightest glance. She's the complete opposite of a siren (and she makes him want to kneel down and beg for...something.)

She comes down slowly (and the cheesy-movie-feeling intensifies. And here's the deal, he's _always _going to be the loser brother.)

Noel can barely speak, but his eyes say it all and she smiles softly at his obvious appreciation. And the revulsion is almost too much for him to breathe. The electricity stronger than ever. (When does this _end_. Answer: Never.)

Nora takes photographs, while Lizzie and Marti gush and George tries to look suitably threatening as the step-father of a teenage daughter. And it's all so _sweet_, and pure, and…

(…and he can't wait to throw up.)

She goes into full family mode, and hugs everybody, while Noel waits outside. She reaches him, and takes puts her hand out, (_feel good family moment time_) smiling all the while (you need a little more practice, hun, it doesn't reach your eyes.)

"Sorry, Case. I just had a bath. It wouldn't be good to pollute my skin so very soon."

(Of course he pushes her hand away and rushes upstairs.)

* * *

(Here's the thing; almost everybody has tried to theorize on the feel good family moment, and why he absolutely refuses to partake in it. He has a very logical reasoning for it. He read once in this magazine that hugging releases a chemical in the brain called oxyto-something which makes it seem as if you actually _like_ the other person.

And if he ever started feeling like he actually _likes _Casey then he'd have to stop his pranks and be _nice _and that would put an end to all his entertainment in life. Because he _dislikes _her so much. He might start thinking she was…bearable.

-Like there could be any other reason why he'd want to avoid the feel-good _family _moment.-)

* * *

"What the hell is your problem?"

"Is that a trick question? You're in my room…duh."

"Why do you have to always act like a jerk? Why can't you just hug me once and be done with it."

"Why do you care?"

She looks away for a moment, and then sighs softly, and his heart starts beating erratically (and really when did he have his check-up last, because this seems to be happening pretty often these days.) "Of course I care Derek, you're my…brother."

(No fucking _wa…_)

He's right in front of her now. The air almost filled with the invisible words, till they choke him. Can she feel it?

"Step-brother." (He doesn't sound like that.)

She looks right into his eyes, and…"Same difference."

The surrealism hits him, then. Because it's not the 'same-fucking-difference.' It isn't. It never has been.

"How…sweet," he drawls (because he doesn't trust his voice at the moment) "I get why you're doing it."

She holds his gaze, "Why?"

"You're trying to give…this," he gestures (maybe he means them –if there _is _a 'them'- or maybe he just took in the whole universe. Does it matter really?) "A name."

(He's sure she sees it in his eyes before he says it. Because she knows him just as well as he knows her.)

She starts walking away, "I have…to go."

He breathes it out anyway, "Incest."

She stops, dead. "It's not…we're not…we didn't..."

"If I'm your brother, Case, tell me why are you _here _and not downstairs with your _boyfriend_? And that day…"

(He broke the golden rule too. He mentioned _that day_. Did she think she would pull all the strings?)

She backs herself against the door. And he moves forward. Slowly, he takes her chin in his hand and makes her look back at him. (Once. Just once he'd like to see the same expression on her face that he sees everyday in the mirror. Then... maybe _then _she'd understand this feeling of helplessness, of losing, a little better.) He brushes his lips against her eyes, as they automatically shut, and all comes down to this moment. He doesn't kiss her, he just trails his lips across her skin, slowly, reflectively. (He can't taste her. He _can'tcan'tcan't_. He doesn't trust himself that much.)

Her eyes snap open, and he reels back. Because (because yes, he knows what it feels like. Do you understand now, darling?)

She starts walking again, faster, almost running. Away. (Because that was what she always did.)

"Goddamn you," he whispers to the now-empty air, "Why did you kiss me back that day?"

* * *

**A/N Is this sort of what they call a cliff-hanger? Anyhow, two more chapters to go. Thank you all _so _much for sticking through with this. I really appreciate it. The memory was my take on the part from Bully Brothers where Derek says he wishes, he's dealt with Ryan when he first bullied him. (And Sheldon is sort of awesome!)**

**And It's totally my fault for being a horriblehorrible updater, that probably everyone's forgotten. He _is _talking about the kiss in the first chapter (It started as a one-shot, remember :)**


	9. Answer

**A/N : Well, second last chapter! This one should be titled 'That In Which The McDonald-Venturis Send Executive Class Tickets To Call Derek Back From His Extended Egyptian Vacation.'**

**Someday I will get tired of using 'Clueless' references in LWD. Today is not that day. **

**This chapter documents two of my favorite LWD relationships, so I hope you like it! You all leave such insightful reviews and actually have theories of your own (which btw I'm shamelessly using) and that helps a lot. So thanks! :)**

**

* * *

****It was an explosion. A dissolution, an absolution. A scream, a whisper. A prayer, a promise. An answer. It was.**

**--**_Simplicity Itself_

* * *

_You told yourself years ago  
You'd never let your feelings show  
The obligation that you made  
For the title that they gave_

_Baby, I'd love you to want me  
The way that I want you  
The way that it should be  
Baby, you'd love me to want you  
The way that I want to  
If you'd only let it be_

**I'd Love You To Want Me- Lobo**

* * *

He was sixteen at the time.

Sally had left for Vancouver, and everything seemed…duller. Like she'd dimmed the colors somehow, and he wasn't feeling a hell lot. And somehow it was having this strange effect on him; the electrons were more…electric than ever, without the distraction that Sally's presence had offered.

He'd been wandering aimlessly in the house, when the strange sound from the games closet had made him stop. In retrospect, he shouldn't have opened the door. He should have walked past it, ignored the sound, and gone to his room.

Simple. (Of course he opened the door.)

Curiosity killed the cat (and he's starting to wonder just exactly how many damn lives he has).

*****

It was like an alternate reality.

She stiffened as he shut the door behind him. He switched on the light and both of them stared at each other for a split second.

"Go _away _Derek."

But he was struck by panic at the sight of her tear-stained face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and slightly swollen. He didn't know why, but this was _different_. Lizzie never cried. She liked hockey and football and wore basketball shorts. Somehow she didn't seem _capable _of tears. Seeing her sitting there, looking so much like a girl he found he couldn't move.

(There are firsts for everything. He'd broken his 'No Tears' rule for Sally just the day before. So technically it didn't count for anything anymore. He'd lost once again.)

"What…" he cleared his throat, "What…uh…happened?"

"What part," she said, coldly (and yes, he totally sees the family resemblance here) "Of 'g-o a-w-a-y' is too hard for you to comprehend?"

"The part where you're sitting in a dark closet, crying your eyes out." He snapped back. "I have places to be, okay, so make this quick." (He considered suing his brain for non-support. And his tongue. This was definitely _not _the best way to deal with…t…t…tears.)

Maybe it was the familiarity of his tone, or the fact that he was still standing there (he was going to mention his legs in the lawsuit too) when he obviously wanted to be anywhere but.

"Jamie." She'd replied, dully, refusing to look up at him.

"What about him?"

"He said," she choked again, and he stood there awkwardly (yes, he's slowly remembering the reasons _why _he has the 'No Tears' policy in the first place) "He said, I looked like…like…a girl."

(Was there some deep profound thought behind this that he was _completely and utterly_ missing?) "You…_are_ a girl?

She glared at the obvious question in his tone. "That's not what I meant" she said in her best 'you're-such-an-idiot' voice (and the resemblance just _keeps_ getting stronger). "He said that I was just like every single other girl, dressing to please and hoping to catch everybody's attention. And he'd thought I was different, but I'd just turned out to be a…a…well-disguised carbon-copy.

She'd started crying again and maybe it was the fact that it was _Lizzie_ (soccer loving, cool-headed _Lizzie_) or maybe it was the fact that he was just a sucker and needed to be put into a mental asylum before he could become even _more _of a girl. But whatever it was, he was suddenly sitting down beside her (while she was _crying_. Was it even legal for his mind to leave without the required two-week-notice?)

"He's jealous."

She looked up, surprised "What?"

"How many guys asked you out today or complimented you?"

He could see the inner battle in her mind, between being modest or telling him the truth. "Some." She conceded finally.

(Twelve-year-old boys were so easy to see through. He was sure he'd never been one.)

"So, he was jealous, you know, that you'd like one of them better than him. That…" he waved vaguely at her new look, "you'd done this for some…other guy."

"But I hadn't! I just wanted to look pretty. Like a girl. Like…Casey. But guess someone in the family has to have the loser genes."

"Casey has them." He assured her (because that was what he _did_. Always. An incontrovertible fact. Like… gravity...or existence of electrons or something.)

She ignored him. "Are you sure…about Jamie?"

"Positive." He said, "Jamie reminds me of myse…Ralph. When he was young…and stupid."

It worked, she almost laughed. "De-_rek_." (This wasn't fair payback. De-_rek_ had a tendency to make him lose his train of thought.)

He'd gotten up, "Well as much fun as this hasn't been, I really should be going."

"Thanks." She didn't look up at him.

He opened the door and then turned back. "You didn't…uh…need to do this to look pretty," he rubbed the back of his neck, like he always did when he felt awkward, "you were, like, you know, pretty… or whatever even in the hockey shirts."

She'd already tackled him for a hug. And maybe (_maybe_) he slipped his arm around the younger girl, effectively breaking his other stone rule (but there were no witnesses so it wouldn't ever hold water in a court of law. He's going to deny his Casey-fication till the end of time.)

* * *

_Mutual Inductance is the phenomena by which current flowing in one body induces a magnetic field in another body placed close to it._

_**- Henry's Law **_

_*****_

He knows what's wrong with him.

It's chapter six of his physics books. Magnetism. (He hadn't looked up mutual-inductance and self-inductance because it'd sounded kind of…kinky. And no one can prove otherwise. So there.)

But he's glad he did, because it totally helped him understand how deep the rabbit-hole goes (right down to middle of the earth). He already has enough material for a thesis on how laws of physics can completely screw up your life.

So Casey has a lot of these current-producing-electrons (no wonder his skin burns whenever he touches her) and the Universal Law of Gravitation is still applicable (and that's why he just can't _stay the hell away _from her). So you have current flowing and a body placed close to it, and now _this _means that she induces a magnetic pull in him. Like two opposite ends of a magnet. So not only is he always near her, he can't even go anywhere _else; _think about anything else because she's always pulling him _back._

(He _hates _Einstein.)

* * *

"You wanna watch a movie with us. We'll…" Edwin's voice trails off. "What are you _doing_?"

He doesn't look up. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm making a sandwich."

Edwin sounds terrified, "You're…making your own sandwich? Dude, did you hit your head? You might even have concussion. I'm gonna call dad and Nora. We'll get you through this, bro."

He looks up (apparently the drama-queen genes are not exclusive to the McDonald family) and he can hear Edwin take a sharp breath (and yes there was a reason he _wasn't _looking up. He's too tired to mask the look in his eyes.)

(Because it's…senior prom. And everybody knows senior prom is the time to…and _fuck _it's Noel…and Casey. And touching…and she's wearing that underwear set that he'd _mistaken _for a shoe-polishing cloth. And then she'd gone and brought one _exactly _like it. And _Noel. _

And her.)

"What are you watching?" (Lord of the Lies.)

"Clueless," says Lizzie coming in, "It's a rom-com. It's really good."

(He's going to sit at home on his prom night watching a _rom-com. _He's up for the Schlepper Scholarship for Proficiency in Ultra Lameness.)

*

It's over.

(And his brain seems to have short-circuited in between somewhere, because this _cannot _possibly be what he thinks it is.)

"That was _so _sweet. Josh and Cher were just so _cute _together." Maybe if Lizzie could stop looking at him every two seconds in between gushing about the brilliance of the movie, his stomach could get some time to settle a little. And this is Lizzie. She never gushes. But she is, and that in itself is enough to make him sick.

"Yeah, that Josh guy was kinda cool. He handled his job thing with his stepdad pretty well. And man, his stepsister was _hot_." (He's going to have to teach Edwin the fine art of subtlety some time.)

And now they're both staring at him like (_fuck_) he's supposed to say something. And there was nothing he could've said anyway. Because there's nothing to say. It's just a movie and it's not real. (_Not _real.) And he can't say anything because his throat seems to have closed up and it's enough that he's still breathing.

(And she's still at the prom. With him.)

"If you tell anyone that I actually watched a movie with you two, your chances of living long enough to see another one seem pretty slim to me." (Standard. He always goes for the standard stuff.)

They both look a little…off. Like they'd expected something and anticipated and it hadn't happened. (Yeah, he knows the feeling.)

He's takes to the stairs two at a time.

"Hey Derek…"

He looks down.

"How's Egypt this time of the year? The river keeps the temperature pretty even, I suppose."

And _that _has to be the singularly most stupid question he's ever been asked in his life. He knows he's bet on the weather with Edwin before. But _Egypt_? Seriously, how would he know?

* * *

"Smerek?"

He's lying on his bed. Wide awake. Because (_Promdressherkisshimwrongright_) he's probably failed that last exam and he's not getting into Queens. (Because he's karma's favorite screw-up.)

"What's the matter Smarti?" He shifts slightly, so she can get in with him. She's wearing her longest nightgown, carrying Sir Monks-a-Lot and she looks...heartbreakingly young.

"Smerek, Daphne has a problem."

He racks his head, trying to remember which of her friends Daphne was. (Mostly all he did was avoided stepping on the midgets. Was he supposed to remember _names_?)

"Daphne?"

"You remember," she looks at him through half-lidded eyes, "my imaginary friend?"

(Oh. Right. _Daphne_.)

"What problem do you…does Daphne have, Smarti?"

"Her daddy just got married again. And now her mommy lives somewhere else. And…"

He pulls her closer, wrapping his arms around her, because he can't stop her missing Abby, but he's going to _try_. "Is that it? She's just not there. But Mommy still loves her very much."

Marti glares at him. "I _know _that, Smerek. That's not the problem."

(He never said Mind Reading was one of his guaranteed services.)

"There's this boy. And he always teases her and makes fun of her but he's nice sometimes and she _really _doesn't like him. But then she likes him. And Sir Monks-a-lot thinks that he's makes fun of her because he likes her. But why would you make fun of someone you like?"

He smiles a little. Pigtail pulling used to be his favorite hobby...before he learned how those bra clasps worked. (But _Marti _has a crush?)

"Boys do stupid things when they like someone. So Daphne should stay away from him till she's _older_." (She's his _baby _sister. She's not allowed to date till…she's sixty. Or he's thrown himself in front of a car. Whichever comes first.)

She fixes him with the famous Venturi Stare.

He caves, "When boys like someone they want to get their attention. And when you tease someone it gets them to notice you."

Her face grows pensive again. "But her stepbrother…"

He laughs, "Her stepbrother makes fun of her? He's just jealous he'll never get anyone as wonderful as her." (Edwin was going to get it.)

"No, the boy she likes _is _her new stepbrother."

They have the same eyes. And they're locked together now. (Because he got it wrong. Just like everything else in his _fucking _existence. This isn't about Abby. Or Dimi. And yes he gets it, okay, he _fucking gets it_.)

"That's…wrong, Marti."

She looks at him and her eyes are heartbreakingly old. "Why is it wrong Derek?"

"Because…" (Because _fuck _they're _family_) "He's a part of her family. Like you and me."

"No," she says quietly, "Daphne likes him. Likes him as _not _family. And she's sad because she thinks it's wrong."

"It _is_ wrong Smarti." He says again, just as quietly (because _yes _he _gets _it, but when it comes down to it, he's a fucking coward.)

"No Smerek," she says. "I love Daphne. And she's very sad. I don't want her to be sad. Because when you love someone and they're sad it _hurts_ you. It hurts me _here_." She puts her fist to her chest, right in the middle. (And yes, it hurts him _there_ too.)

"So, then..." he closes his eyes (because she's too young and her eyes are too old, and he's _hurting _her) "...Daphne should go...talk to him. Scold him for teasing her."

She wraps her arms around his neck again, "Because it's not wrong, right? It makes her happy. And things which make you happy are _good _for you, Smerek. Really. Casey says so...like ice-cream. And purple. And love. And stars."

He knows what's wrong with him.

And it has nothing to do with physics.

* * *

**I just can't resist Derek/Lizzie and Derek/Marti bonding! Who'd have thunk it? It'd take Marti's word-play to get him out of denial! :) I think this was the fam's incredibly unsubtle, completely overdone way (_Clueless, _really Lizwin, how original) of telling him that it's _okay_. But then when have they NOT been dysfunctional?**

**Also, the memory references 'Happy New Schoolyear' and Lizzie's girly look. I swear to you, I opened the physics book more for this fic than I did for my exams. Man, Derek's theories nearly killed me! And the song at the beginning, I have no idea what Lobo was referring to in "obligation that you made for the title that they gave" but THANK YOU for making it fit the step-sibling thing so well! **


End file.
